“Well, the fact is, we’ve two hundred pounds fallen in. Been out on a good mortgage at five per cent, and just now I can’t place it anywhere at more than four, and that won’t do, you know, will it?”
“Of course it would not be so advantageous.”
“No, to be sure not, so we thought we’d ask you to take it at five. Money’s valuable out there. You could easily send us the dividend once a-year—ten pounds, you know, by credit note, and it would be useful to you, and doing your old friends a good turn. I hate to see money lying idle.”
Mrs Hallam glanced across the room to see that little Mrs Thickens was watching them anxiously, and she felt the tears rise in her eyes as she darted a grateful look back, before turning to dry, drab-looking Thickens, who now and then put his hand up to his ear, as if expecting to find a pen there.
“It is very good and very generous of you,” she said huskily, “and I can never be grateful enough for all this kindness. Believe me, I shall never forget it.”
“That’s right. I shall have it all arranged, so that you can draw at the Colonial Bank.”
“No, no,” cried Mrs Hallam with energy, “it is impossible. Besides, I have a sufficiency for our wants, ample for the present—the remains of my little property. Mr Bayle has managed it so well for me; my furniture brought in a nice little sum, and—”
“Your what?” said Thickens in a puzzled tone.
“My property. You remember what I had when—”
“When you were married? Why, my dear madam, you don’t think any of that was left?”